


flavour

by livsn



Category: The Founder of Diabolism, The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Genre: Established Relationship, Food, Introspective Writing, M/M, it's just really wwx wanting to cook something for lwj in return, spice and seasoning as some sort of allegory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:42:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24204592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livsn/pseuds/livsn
Summary: So, the thing is this: Wei Wuxian has gotten it into his head that he wants to – needs to – master the ability to cook a perfectly acceptable Gusu meal for his husband.
Relationships: Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī & Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn
Comments: 34
Kudos: 419





	flavour

**Author's Note:**

> A few things inspired this: 
> 
> 1) Chapter 126, where lwj admitted to wwx that he had cooked for him before (and did so well that wwx thought the food came from the restaurant in Caiyi town). 
> 
> 2) The rarity of spice and seasoning in ancient times. Also, its role as a mark of status. 
> 
> 3) An urge to write. 
> 
> Un-beta-ed (yet). Thank you for your time!

_The flavour of Yunmeng’s cuisine_ , Jiang Yanli once told him, _is often far too strong for the palate of those who come from the other districts._

_Too savoury, too sweet, too sour, too spicy; we, the people of Yunmeng, don’t seem to have second thoughts about investing in the intensity of the taste of our food. Not even the extravagant people of Lanling season their food the way we do, even though they have spices in more abundance than us._

Wei Ying – still Wei Ying, not yet Wei Wuxian; seven years of age, just shy of eight – hadn’t really been listening then, sitting at the table and staring at his sister’s fingers as she deftly folded dumpling skins over mounds of meat for dinner instead. Lunch had been a few hours ago, and dinner was several hours more to come; the boy didn’t think he could wait. Perhaps he could coax his sister into cooking a few for him before dinner? 

So he grinned, the way he did on the streets when he hoped for a little bit of kindness, and kicked his legs a little. _I like Yunmeng’s food. I love shijie’s food!_

It made Jiang Yanli laugh in delight, dropping the dumpling that she was holding onto the table, but she also knew his tricks even though they’d only been family for a few years. Wei Ying was as transparent to her as Jiang Cheng was. 

_Rascal_ , Jiang Yanli said, and her smile was the usual sweet affection even as she abruptly straightened and swiped at her brother’s cheek with her floured fingers. _Have I only been talking to myself all this while? Were you even listening to me?_

 _Of course I was, how could I not when you’re teaching me?_ said the boy, aghast that his sister would even doubt him like that. _I listened to every single word that you said. You said Lanling’s food sucks even though they have more spices than we do._

Jiang Yanli nearly cried in laughter, doubling over in her effort to muffle herself. _That was definitely **not** what I said earlier! A-Ying, you’re going to be the death of me one day, truly. _

Wei Ying shrugged in reply, not denying his sister’s words. She wasn’t wrong; he’d only said what he said because of his dislike for Jin Zixuan – his sole connection to Lanling. It was hardly fair to the people and culture of Lanling, he knew, and so he let Jiang Yanli reprimand him with a tap of flour to his nose. 

_Why, though?_ Wei Ying asked after a while, contemplative now as he dipped his fingers into the bowl of water that Jiang Yanli used to seal the dumplings. 

_Why what, A-Ying?_

_Why do the people of Yunmeng flavour their food so much?_ Wei Ying thought of Yiling and the food that he had to down when he still lived in the streets – the little that he could get after fighting with the bigger boys and the vicious beasts of a dog – seasoned with contempt, disgust, pity. 

Thought of the few times when passers-by found enough kindness and coin to get him a fresh _bao_ \- steaming hot with a flavour that coated his tongue but only left him half-satisfied. 

Thought of the time when Jiang- _shushu_ fed him melon, and the shock to his senses from his first taste of Yunmeng food at a little roadside shack as Jiang- _shushu_ carried him home. 

_Is it because Yunmeng likes food better than other places? Or perhaps we have better recipes?_

Jiang Yanli looked at her brother then, and smiled with the wisdom of a million stars, of an endless cycle of time. 

_Perhaps. But perhaps also because flavour is how we show devotion, respect, worship. That is how we dote on those whom we love._

***

Two lifetimes later, Wei Wuxian finds himself on the cusp of a breakdown as he struggles to consolidate his sister’s insight and his husband’s near-virginal taste buds. Sizhui, bless his young soul, stands apologetically to the side as they both stare at the four dishes laid out before them in the kitchen, each tinted red, but not as red as Wei Wuxian would have liked them to be. 

“No?” he asks weakly, visibly deflating when Sizhui clears his throat and shakes his head. Wei Wuxian had caught the boy in-between classes and duties, and he knows that he needs to let him go soon, but after a bout of life-and-death adventures, Wei Wuxian has learnt that devastation is often halved when shared with another person. In most cases, he’d share it with Lan Wangji, but he’ll have to make do with Sizhui this time round. 

“I’ve reduced _everything_ ,” Wei Wuxian almost whines now, slumping over and burying his face into the crook of his arms. It’s unbecoming of a senior individual, old enough to be a parent, but in Wei Wuxian’s humble opinion, this desolation is worth every ounce of shamelessness that he possesses. 

“I know, I _know_ ,” Sizhui rushes to concur, because how can he not – Wei Wuxian isn't lying. “But you told me to be very, very, _very_ honest, and I promised, so...” 

Wei Wuxian groans and casts his gaze above. “Okay. Fine. I did. I _did,_ ” he says, and then shoves at a chair in frustration. 

“Alright, attempt number seven – yet another failure. You know what, how about next time I just resort to boiling water, and serving that to your Hanguang-Jun for dinner?” Wei Wuxian asks, not above indulging in some sarcasm to bear with his irritation. 

“Wei- _qianbei_ , it’s really much better this time round, I’m not lying,” Sizhui crouches alongside him after a while of silence, voice a supplication and an attempt at comfort. “You’ve really held back this time round, haven’t you?” 

Wei Wuxian turns his head and peeks a little, eyes a little red. “Mm.” 

Sizhui laughs and shuffles closer, exasperated fondness a crease upon his brow. “Want me to tell you more? About what I really think of the dishes this time round? You didn’t even give me the chance to say anything earlier, just took one look at my face and collapsed.” 

Wei Wuxian huffs – one part amused, two parts indulgent. “Your face has said enough.” 

“Hardly,” Sizhui chuckles now, and stands up to pull his companion to his feet as well. “If I may suggest something, Wei- _qianbei_?” 

Wei Wuxian begins picking up one of his dishes. “Yeah, alright, fine. I’ll toss them out. S’not like I can finish them on my own anyway.” 

“No, stop!” Sizhui laughs harder, rushing to snatch it back from his elder and swatting Wei Wuxian’s arms away when he tries to hold Sizhui back in alarm. “That’s not what I was going to say!” 

It’s not often one finds Wei Wuxian baffled, but the confusion that sits on his face now is something that Sizhui is going to regard as one of his greatest achievements in his short life so far. But that’s for him to know, for him to guard as his secret, and for no one to ever find out.

To Wei Wuxian, he shakes his head. “I was going to suggest that maybe you could keep these for tonight instead? We can have them after the night hunt tonight, instead of eating out at the usual restaurant in Caiyi town.” 

Wei Wuxian gapes, and Sizhui thinks that maybe it’s a good thing that Wei Wuxian is usually so quick-witted and eloquent because perplexity does not look good on him. “We...can?” 

“Yes,” Sizhui smiles kindly, taking the initiative to start keeping things when his senior does not move. “Jingyi will like the chilli chicken, stir-fried tofu is Zhong Hui’s favourite, and I certainly wouldn’t say no to more dumpling soup.”

“We’re...keeping these?” 

Stunned doesn’t make for a good look on Wei Wuxian’s visage either, Sizhui decides, and he goes over to link arms with this silly, brave man who doesn’t seem to care for the limits of heaven and earth if it's to safeguard those around him. 

“I’ll tell you this, Wei- _qianbei_ , if this isn’t Cloud Recesses, but elsewhere, these would have been quite well-received.” 

And _there._ Wei- _qianbei_ really does look the prettiest when he’s happy. 

***

So, the thing is this: Wei Wuxian has gotten it into his head that he wants to – needs to – master the ability to cook a perfectly acceptable Gusu meal for his husband. 

In a show of resolution, he’d approached Sizhui after coming back from another season of wandering among the people, of watching the tide of time crash over the world in an endless cycle – and he’d whispered with a soft glow of domestication over his face, “How do you love someone if their food is bland?”

The question had left Sizhui floundering in a mist of bewilderment, because – what _in the world?_ He spent half a day wondering if that was a trick question asked to mess with his head, as Wei Wuxian would sometimes do to prank him, or if it actually was a philosophical question of life that he’s meant to research for. 

“I didn’t understand your question, Wei- _qianbei,_ ” Sizhui admitted finally, amidst the clinking of teacups and Wei Wuxian’s quiet hum of satisfaction after returning from their night hunt that evening. It’s a nice change of pace, Sizhui felt, to be able to sit with an elder without needing to herd his younger sect members back for once. It’s nice, Sizhui felt, to be treated by Wei Wuxian like an equal, like he’s a grown-up now.

It took Wei Wuxian a moment to understand, but when he did, he heaved a sigh and cast his gaze heavenwards. “Mmh. It’s nothing, actually. Just me being petty.” 

“Petty?” 

“Mm. I just don’t know how to cook for your Hanguang-Jun, even though he’s got my preferences noted down to the last detail. He knows how I flavour my food, how I drench only specific vegetables with chilli oil, even how I pair certain main dishes with certain side dishes. But from what I’ve observed, all Lan Zhan seems to like are either bland steamed vegetables and bitter medicinal herbs. How am I supposed to make any of these good for him?” 

Sizhui took a moment to hide the curve of his lips behind his cup, but Wei Wuxian caught him anyway. “How dare you laugh at me!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, kicking at his younger companion playfully. 

“Wei- _qianbei_ , you know that Hanguang-Jun will eat anything you make, don’t you?” Sizhui smiled after a while of dodging his elder’s swipes. “Just maybe consider abstaining from so much spice that you’d kill his taste buds? That’s good enough.”

Wei Wuxian scoffed before he could stop himself. 

“And besides,” Sizhui powered on, reaching over to refill both their teacups as he levelled a pointed look at Wei Wuxian, “I think Wei- _qianbei_ can cook just fine. I’m just not sure why you have a tendency to overseason your food.”

Wei Wuxian scoffed again, but softer this time, looking down into the refilled cup of tea he held in his hands – a Gusu blend that he’d gotten used to now. The scent that rose alongside the little wisps of white is delicate. A little floral, but not overwhelmingly so. If drunk, it’d taste one part sweet, one part bitter, two parts smooth. What a change from his first lifetime, where he tended to veer towards heavy-bodied tea or the strong tang of liquor. It’d happened so naturally – the way day changed to night and then back to day again, the way seasons chased after one another ceaselessly. 

Sizhui wasn’t wrong. For all that people rail about his incompetence with the wok, the truth is this: Wei Wuxian _can_ cook. Perhaps not good, and certainly not on par with his husband, who’s as gifted as they come, but if he put his mind to it, Wei Wuxian isn’t disastrous in the kitchen. 

“Except I don’t want to just make anything and give it to him, you know?” Wei Wuxian replied eventually, a whim strengthened into yearning through dedication and devotion. An attempt to return his husband’s labour and loyalty, as boundless and as selfless as lovers from folklores of yore. 

“He’d eat anything I make, I already know that. I’d eat anything that he makes too. But there’s a reason why he observes and does things the way I like them. Because then I’m not just eating food that he made. I’m eating but a fraction of his love and his desire to give me the best. It’s worship and a love letter, plated for all to see,” said Wei Wuxian in a monologue, quiet and contemplative, like the world had fallen away save him and his thoughts in a bubble of privacy.

But how does his stubborn, rebellious Yunmeng heart learn to feed a Gusu palate? 

***

It’s close to ten by the time Wei Wuxian returns toJingshi, a quiet shadow tiptoeing out of habit even though he knows that his husband will still be awake in waiting. Lan Wangji will keep the candles burning low at his study table, reading missives or reports in the soft glow as he keeps an eye for Wei Wuxian’s return. The incense burners will also have been lit because Wei Wuxian had once said that he likes it when their room smells of sandalwood, like Lan Wangji himself. And the bed – not big, not small, private, intimate – will be prepared by now, warmed by his husband’s affection as he moves and arranges the blankets to his liking. 

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian calls the moment he steps over the threshold of the room, giggling when Lan Wangji does indeed look up from where he is working at his study table. “I’m home! Are you still working?” 

Lan Wangji gets up from his seat and walks over to his husband then, lips an easy press against Wei Wuxian’s forehead. “Mm, a missive from Nie- _zhongzhu_.” 

“Oh?” Wei Wuxian draws back in surprise, arms automatically looping around Lan Wangji’s waist, and doesn’t resist when Lan Wangji starts leading him back to the study table. “Nie- _xiong_ ’s asking for assistance?” 

“No. An invitation to pool resources for inter-sect education and to slowly introduce a new learning system. It’s a prudent suggestion, and very timely. We are receiving new students soon,” Lan Wangji replies, picking the letter up to hand over to Wei Wuxian. In return, Wei Wuxian hands over Suibian and Chenqing, leaning back to kiss his husband’s jaw before shifting his attention to the scroll in his hands. 

It doesn’t take him long to finish, and when he’s done, he looks up with a nod and pursed lips, impressed. “Nie- _xiong_ certainly knows what he’s doing, doesn’t he? How long do you think he’s been planning this?” 

Lan Wangji shakes his head once from where he’s pulling out some clothes for Wei Wuxian to change into after his bath. “Long. Perhaps the detailed planning is recent, but the idea would have likely been brewing for a while.” 

Wei Wuxian laughs and goes over to his husband, letting him draw him close to rub a thumb against his cheek. “Do you think he’s drawing from his time here as a student?” 

Humour softens the corners of Lan Wangji’s eyes, loosens the impassivity on his face, and Wei Wuxian thinks he’s never seen anyone look so handsome before. In moments like these, he begins to understand a little of Lan Wangji’s possessiveness because he wouldn’t want anyone else to see that look on his husband’s face either. It’s his, and his, and _his_ – but Wei Wuxian holds that thought, heavy and precious in his heart, and kisses the inside of Lan Wangji’s wrist instead. 

“You think so too, don’t you? Your uncle must have given him such a fright during his time here that he’s compelled to protect the next generation now.”

“...Nonsense.” 

Wei Wuxian cackles, gremlin-like, not resisting even when Lan Wangji strips him clean and dumps him into the empty bath barrel. “You hesitated!” 

Lan Wangji doesn’t deign to answer his husband, handing him his clothes to hang by the side instead. “Stay. I’ll fetch your water for you.” 

Wei Wuxian grins and leans over coyly. “And then you’ll join me? We’ve not broken any bathtubs yet.” 

Lan Wangji instantly beats a hasty retreat, scooting out of the room, his ears as red as Wei Wuxian’s red ribbon. 

***

The questions come when they’re snuggled in bed later, Wei Wuxian languid and pleasantly warm where he’s tucked into Lan Wangji’s sides. It’s close to eleven by then, and Wei Wuxian really should make his husband go to sleep soon if the man wants to wake up well-rested at five, but Lan Wangji’s adamant that he hears about his husband’s day when they’re apart. 

And so Wei Wuxian obliges, because who is he to deny his husband when he himself understands that thrumming need to know everything about one's beloved? Even more so for Lan Wangji – who had lost him before he was truly gone, who had mourned him before he was found, who had loved him before he knew he was loved. 

This is Wei Wuxian's forever oath to Lan Wangji, made in life, signed in love. 

“I feel like Jingyi is making slow but splendid progress, you know?” he says tonight, twisting around so that he ends up with his back against Lan Wangji’s chest. He’s also trapped his husband’s fingers within his, fiddling and tapping mindlessly as he talks. “His deductions tonight were spot-on, and even though he also digressed a lot during the night hunt, as usual, he knew where to lead his sect siblings. He even managed to spot a trap a couple of days ago before anyone fell into it! Not even Sizhui, who’s the sharpest among the lot, saw it!” 

Lan Wangji hums in reply, and then pushes a kiss to the crown of Wei Wuxian’s head. “Be not afraid of growing slowly, be afraid only of standing still,” he commented, smiling when Wei Wuxian throws his head back to laugh, thumping against the base of Lan Wangji’s throat. It’s a solid knock, and Lan Wangji’s heart, stuffed full with pleasure and contentment, thumped back twice harder. 

“Of course you’d say that. Slow and steady, yes?” 

“Yes,” Lan Wangji kisses his head again. “Did you reward him?” 

“Yes!” Wei Wuxian twists again to face his husband in glee, cackling gloriously. “I gave him three extra pieces of chicken. Guess what, he ate them all even though he said he didn’t want them in the beginning!” 

Lan Wangji huffs in amusement. “At the restaurant in Caiyi town again?” he asks, an easy, casual enough question. And it would have been, if Wei Wuxian hadn’t frozen abruptly, eyes flicking to Lan Wangji’s face. It startles his husband, who, understandably, begins to sit up in concern, but Wei Wuxian pulls him back down in a hurry and turns around to settle against his chest again. 

“Mmhmm. Chicken. Yep. At the store in Caiyi Town,” Wei Wuxian barely stutters, cheer picking up in his voice again. “It was _great_. You should have seen Jingyi’s face. He was so surprised!” 

Lan Wangji teeters, teeters for another moment, and then runs a hand down easily the length of his husband’s arm with the one that’s not trapped underneath Wei Wuxian’s weight. Trust is a thing to be earned, just like respect, and Wei Wuxian has earned his for an eternity, if not more. Doubt between each other is something they'd long vanquished – amidst a conspiracy; amidst the unravelling of lies and secrets and truths; amidst three bows to heaven and earth, to parents, and to each other.

So Lan Wangji draws back from the precipice and buries his face into the back of Wei Wuxian’s neck instead, mouthing lightly. “Was it a new dish?” he prompts quietly. 

Wei Wuxian doesn’t even miss a beat, bringing Lan Wangji’s fingers up to his lips to nibble in retaliation. “It was a request I made to the cook! The old lady was nice enough to humour me, and I got to go in to look.” 

“Is that why you smelled like the kitchen when you came back earlier?” 

Wei Wuxian exaggerates a loud, offended gasp at that. “How dare you! I smell great all the time!” 

In retaliation, Lan Wangji takes a bite out of his husband, soothes it with a lick and a kiss, and muffles indignant cries with his lips. That’s good enough for now. 

***

The truth is, Wei Wuxian never intended to hide the truth about his attempts at cooking a proper Gusu meal for his husband. Sure, he'd approached Sizhui quietly, without announcing his intentions to his cultivation partner, but he did not set out thinking, _This is going to be a surprise; Lan Zhan cannot know!_

But when Lan Wangji unexpectedly, probably unknowingly, prodded him about the restaurant in Caiyi town, his secrecy was knee-jerk – the way he scrambles back and climbs up the highest structure when he sees a dog, the way he will shove the juniors behind him whenever faced with insurmountable danger, the way he runs to Lan Wangji and fills up the vacant space there when Lan Wangji opens up his arms because he never wants the other man to bear with emptiness again. 

He never meant to. But once he began, he couldn’t stop. 

And the worst part is this: Lan Wangji knows that he is up to something, and it’s clear that Wei Wuxian is only getting away with it because Lan Wangji allows it. 

***

“Sizhui, your father is on to us.” 

Sizhui freezes midway into his bow to Wei Wuxian, and lifts his head instead. Discourteous to not complete a greeting to a senior, but...“W-what?” 

“I said, your father is _on to us_.” 

“Oh no.” Understanding dawns first, but it is quickly followed by a distress so great that Wei Wuxian is momentarily taken aback. “Oh _no_. What are we going to _do_?” 

Wei Wuxian backpedals and catches Sizhui by the elbow, surprise momentarily turning him dumb. He gestures wildly at the boy’s dismay, and then forces himself to slow down when Sizhui stares at him with eyes that remind him of Wen Ning when Wen Ning was scolded by his sister. 

“Why are you so...” 

“So…?” Sizhui prompts when Wei Wuxian flails his arms around some more, looking as if he were trying to grab the right words out of the air around him. 

“Displeased. Vexed. Perturbed. Upset!” Wei Wuxian manages at last, throwing his arms up when he does. “It’s not that big a deal, to be honest. It’s really fine, even if Lan Zhan found out!”

This time, it’s Sizhui’s turn to look surprised. “Oh. It wasn’t a secret?” 

Wei Wuxian blinks. “You thought it was?” 

Sizhui shifts, now a little confused, a little embarrassed. “I-I was under the impression that it was because y-you – you know.” 

Wei Wuxian draws a deep breath and puts a heavy hand on Sizhui’s shoulder. “Nope. I don’t,” he says, and then laughs when Sizhui flushes with the brilliance of a twilight sun. Like Lan Wangji, it starts with his ears, but unlike Lan Wangji, it spreads to his cheeks and past his neck – a flame of mortification. 

“No, seriously, though,” Wei Wuxian says as he tugs at Sizhui’s arm and bids him to follow as they head out of the Jingshi to the library, where Wei Wuxian has agreed to show him the rubrics of drafting a stronger suppression talisman. “What did I do to make you think that it's a secret? Because not even _I_ knew it was a secret, until it felt like it had become a secret.” 

It should have made no sense, but Sizhui thinks he gets it because that’s how he feels when he sometimes says something off-handed, only to look up to find Wen Ning staring at him with blankness in his face but stars in his eyes. And then he realises that he’s been drawing details from memories that are fuzzy and bleached, misty and off-centre – memories from another lifetime that’s swathed with love even amidst the darkest night – only to realise, _ah, that’s mine. That’s my childhood memories._

“Sizhui?” 

Sizhui blinks as he continues to match Wei Wuxian’s strides, keeping it shorter than when he follows Lan Wangji. He’s starting to get taller than Wei Wuxian now, but Wei Wuxian is a legend boxed into a constraint, and Sizhui knows how to conduct himself. 

“I don’t know. It just felt like one. Like something that you’d sometimes do for each other, and so I just assumed that it was a secret. Or a surprise.” 

Wei Wuxian looks over his shoulder with a cackle that’s more gremlin than man, more infectious than the worst stomach flu to have ever conquered the Cloud Recesses, and Sizhui cannot help but laugh along in exasperation. 

“It just felt like one, eh?” 

Sizhui smiles this time. “Yes, Wei- _qianbei_. It just felt like one.” 

Wei Wuxian throws his arms up into the air then and stretches himself out – languid, lazy, leisurely. He’s the reflection of the moon that stretches across the ripples of the Biling lake; the wind that blows any way it likes; the creeks that snake along some hidden parts of Gusu’s mountain forests. “Alright. Let’s make it one then. So you know what this means?” 

“What?” Sizhui asks, even though he knows, even though he wants to sigh with the fondness of a million beating hearts, even though he wants to say _please flirt like normal people_. 

“This secret is about to be found out! It’s do or die now!” 

Sizhui laughs for real this time and shakes his head. “Hanguang-Jun wouldn’t appreciate that comparison at all, Wei- _qianbei_. But yes, it’s do or die now. Be prepared to do your best this evening then. I’m not going to be merciful” 

And when Wei Wuxian guffaws this time, Sizhui hears his Xian- _gege_ – bright and brave and bodacious; bigger than life to a child who had sought love but was given a future. 

***

Lan Wangji finds Wei Wuxian coming back to their quarters two evenings later with a tray in his arms, a skip in his steps, and a whistle on his lips. 

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji intones, surprise manifesting as a little twitch in his brows as he opens the doors of Jingshi to a whiff of ginger in his face, a giggle of glee in his ears. He’d heard his husband’s approach even beyond the doors, raucous and exaggerated the way Cloud Recesses wouldn’t have generally allowed. But Wei Wuxian is Wei Wuxian, beloved and life and passion and hope. 

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian grins, pleasure clear on his face the way Lan Wangji hopes to always see. This is not the face from their youth, seasons and seasons ago, but the cadence of the voice is treasured, and so is the openness in his gestures. Lan Wangji remembers a time when he would have begged and suffered through another thirty three lashes of the discipline whip and crawled to the end of the world on broken glass if that is what it took to bring this man back to him. 

“Wei Ying,” he says again, this time with a smile in his voice, and reaches out to take the laden tray from Wei Wuxian’s arms. “You went to the kitchen to collect dinner?” 

Wei Wuxian coughs once, and then twice. “Yeah. I was passing through, and thought that since it’s so close to dinner time anyway,I might as well pick it up for us tonight.” 

It’s their routine now, to seek each other out for dinner together whenever both of them are unencumbered for the evening. It’s the only meal that they can seem to share together when they return to Cloud Recesses, with Lan Wangji being tasked with clan duties in the early mornings and Wei Wuxian taking on mentoring roles for the juniors into late evenings. Between the both of them, they’d take turns bringing their food back to Jingshi to partake with each other – the end of obligations and the start of intimacy. 

“Let’s eat, let’s eat! It’s your favourite tofu soup today!” 

Lan Wangji makes a quiet sound of delight, and picks up his pair of chopsticks. 

***

 _The flavour of Yunmeng’s cuisine_ , Jiang Yanli once told him, _is often far too strong for the palate of those who come from the other districts._

_Too savoury, too sweet, too sour, too spicy; we, the people of Yunmeng, don’t seem to have second thoughts about investing in the intensity of the taste of our food. Not even the extravagant people of Lanling season their food the way we do, even though they have spices in more abundance than us._

Wei Wuxian – Wei Wuxian now, but Wei Ying to Lan Wangji, Lan Zhan; twenty six years of age, although he is technically older than that – is coming to realise that his sister is right. No one outside of Yunmeng cooks like the people of Yunmeng; no one outside of Yunmeng savours flavour like the people of Yunmeng. 

And that is also why, sometimes, you forego the spices and the seasoning. Because in Yunmeng, four pinches of sugar, six dashes of soy sauce, eight pieces of crushed star anise, ten spoonfuls of rice vinegar, and twelve scoops of chilli oil is how you show devotion, respect, worship. That is how you dote on those whom you love. 

But in Gusu, in Cloud Recesses, two sprinkles of salt is all it takes to say the same. 

***

_**Coda** : _

“Mmmm did Lan- _er gege_ cook for me again?” 

“You knew?” 

“I sensed. Hehe!” 

“And when will you cook for me?” 

“I already have!” 

“...When??” 


End file.
